


No Rest

by WonderingsAndMusings



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, GTA AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6588301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderingsAndMusings/pseuds/WonderingsAndMusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t been high in too long and felt like a hit from a spliff might be enough to calm the jitters in his hands, though he knew all to well that the withdrawal would rack shakes through him.  He had seen friends die from heroin withdrawal and he knew he could be next.  Another anonymous dead junkie in an alleyway, ready to be forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Rest

He was tired. His entire body felt like jello as he walked through the streets of Los Santos. It had been a long time since he had been anywhere close to “home,” whatever that meant anymore. 

He hadn’t been high in too long and felt like a hit from a spliff might be enough to calm the jitters in his hands, though he knew all to well that the withdrawal would rack shakes through him. He had seen friends die from heroin withdrawal and he knew he could be next. Another anonymous dead junkie in an alleyway, ready to be forgotten.

He stopped by a payphone and dialed a number he had had memorized for years but hadn’t had to use in the last 18 months. He held his breath as it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, yeah, James?”

“Bruce? What the fuck? Where the hell are you?”

“Third and Pine.”

“Fucking stay there, I’m going to come bring you home.”

Bruce was shaking. He expected to be chewed out, he expected yelling and screaming, he expected to be told to loose the number. He couldn’t tell if he was shaking from the detox or if he was shaking in surprise.

Things hadn’t exactly ended well between him and the rest of the crew. After a heist gone wrong, he left. They had all blamed him, Adam was in critical condition having been shot almost in the heart (he lived, Bruce had found out much later) and it had been Bruce’s fault. James had screamed then. He had screamed until his throat had been rubbed raw from the sheer power of his voice. Lawrence had thrown him against a wall, fist hitting face until the anger was drained from his body.

And thats how Bruce had left, bloody, beaten, and without a trace. He walked away and never looked back. How could he? The people he loved obviously didn’t want him around, he had almost gotten one of them killed. He couldn’t look at Matt’s face without thinking about how he should have gotten them out of there faster.

He turned to drugs, the substance flowing through his veins blocked out the pain conjuring their faces brought. He made “friends” with the other junkies. He learned which churches gave out free meals which nights.

He heard the rumble of the car, his car, as it pulled up next to him. He felt a strong pair of arms pick him out, he hadn’t even realized he was laying on the ground, and pull him into the back seat. It had been two days since his last hit, he knew the withdrawal was getting close to its peak.

“James, look at this, he's sweating like crazy and shaking. He's detoxing.” A voice that sounded so far away said. Bruce couldn’t make out who it was. “We need to get him home soon.”

“How much and what have you been taking, Bruce.” James voice was clear, it cut through the fog in his mind. He could feel the road beneath the tires as he drifted in and out of sleep in the back.

“Heroin. Lots. Last hit two days ago,” he said, his head was in the lap of the third person, Adam he decided. Fingers gently scratched at his scalp.

They drove to the house, an old safe house they used mostly for medical emergencies, in relative silence. The switch from asphalt to gravel noticeable in Bruce’s body. It would have been almost funny if Bruce could have felt anything other than his stomach bouncing into his throat. This was the place he left from a year and a half ago.

He threw up before they got him inside, emptying the contents of his stomach, mostly bile. It was easy for James to see in the light how much weight Bruce had lost. He was more bone than anything else, thin t-shirt ripped and hanging off his body. Every vertebrae visible as he heaved into the grass.

He felt himself being lifted into someones arms, bridal style, before he passed out.

He woke up a couple hours later, long enough to vomit again and have some water forced into him. He realized everyone had met there, and once he had finished his detox he was in for it. He fell back into what could be called sleep before he could dwell to much on the fact that he was in the same house as the rest of his old crew.

He spent the next two days like that, barely doing more than sleep, piss, and vomit. Each time he woke up his head was in a different persons lap and he heard different voices around him, speaking quietly as if they were going to be the reason he woke up.

On day three he was able to stand on his own, walk around the safe house a little, and smoke a joint with Sean. He knew it wasn’t the best idea to be putting something into his body, but it did help clear his head.

“How have things been around here,” he asked, watching as Sean took a long drag.

“Weird since you disappeared. Larr was ready to find you and kill you for how bad it fucked up James. But he's better now. You should probably talk to him.”

They finished the joint in relative silence. Bruce felt like shit, partially from withdrawal and partially because of the new information Sean had just given him. The last thing he had ever wanted to do was hurt any of them, especially James.

“I’ve been doing some research,” Lawrence started when Bruce walked back inside, “you’re withdrawal symptoms should stop in another day or two. Are you feeling any better? Like, could you try and eat something?” Bruce nodded and grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet. He decided he would talk to James later. He decided he would apologize and ask for his spot back in the crew. He didn’t know how well that was going to go over, but he decided to give it a try.

A week later and Bruce was at 80%, his shaking had stopped, and he was a part of one of the most feared gangs in Los Santos once again. He knew it would take time to gain the trust of his boys back, but he was happy to have a second chance at all.


End file.
